Have not, Want not?
by Isabelle Adamowitz
Summary: Who would've thought that Ron would learn a life-lesson thanks to Lucius Malfoy? Who would've thought that years later Lucius Malfoy's world would shatter after an encounter with a blood-traitor's son? Set during the time in DH where Ron leaves Harry and Hermione to deal with the locket horcrux. Onesided homoeroticism.


_Disclaimer: The characters and world are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling. I'm just borrowing them and have no intention of making money with this._

 _A/N: Hello! I didn't think I'd be launching into a new project, especially since I still have Postcard From Memory Lane to work on (stuck in a rut on that one, sorry, don't worry, it'll get updated eventually). Anyhow, this is a pairing that I honestly couldn't have thought up in my wildest dreams, but having encountered a few rare stories containing it, I was intrigued. So here's an attempt. First off: this ONLY works if you're not picturing Rupert Grint as Ron. He managed to play the character in such a gormless way that it doesn't do justice to the fact that he is actually a capable individual. Second: No kinky stuff here (I just don't have it in me to write smut), though I suppose you can read things into the ropes and the imagined leash if you must... just your usual introspection and angst here... Enjoy!_

Prologue

Ron remembered his first glimpse of Lucius Malfoy when he must have been about seven. He had been brought along to Diagon Alley for back-to-school shopping for his elder siblings. Having fallen behind the rest of the family -his mother holding Ginny's hand while she, Bill, Charlie, Percy and the twins were making their way to Flourish and Blott's- he was holding his father's hand, looking eagerly at the broomsticks in a shop window when he felt his father stiffen slightly. He turned and saw the tall, too-pale man striding toward them with the unmistakeable swagger of the privileged.

"Good day, Lucius." his father said politely.

Ron, though very young, could feel that something was amiss. This was the first time he had ever seen his father express himself with anything less than cordial warmth when greeting someone. And this someone was certainly like none of his family's friends. He stared up at him. Lucius smiled at Ron, and Ron felt a wave of excitement. This extremely well-dressed stranger with his long almost white hair and his eyes like those of a husky was paying attention to him!

"Good day, Arthur." the man said, his smile acquiring an edge of cruel mirth "Do be careful, I see your youngest son seems to have a taste for luxury." he said, nodding in the direction of the magnificent broom on display. "You wouldn't want him to get into the habit of coveting things he'll never have, I'm sure." he finished very softly.

"As a matter of fact I would much rather he came to know that the most valuable things in life are immaterial." Ron's father said, gripping his son's hand firmly, his smile brittle.

"No doubt you would. Good day." the man said, striding past them and directing a subtly vicious yet conspiratorial-seeming smile at Ron who, not having grasped the subtext behind the exchange, was a little star-struck by the man's undeniably -if somewhat darkly- glamorous demeanour.

"Oh, that Lucius Malfoy!" Ron's father said, fuming.

"The nerve of that man!" Ron's mother said directing a furious glare at Lucius Malfoy's retreating figure, having doubled back at the sight of their exchange.

"It's only because I prevented him last minute from acquiring some antique Muggle jewellery that had been bewitched to change colours depending on whether the wearer was pureblood or not about a week ago. He was just trying to provoke me, Dear." Ron's father said with a sigh.

"Who was that, Dad?" Ron asked.

"Just a colleague, Son." Ron's father said.

"What did he mean about me not getting used to wanting what I'll never have? Isn't that normal? Don't grown-ups want what they can't have as well?" Ron continued.

"Yes it is, and you're perfectly right. Only, you see, people who, like Mr. Malfoy, have a lot of money seem to forget that. I'm proud of you Ron." Ron's father beamed. And though still a little confused, Ron beamed back at his father. The feeling of approval directed solely at him, when he was one of many children, was the best feeling he could think of.

But after that, the consciousness of often wanting what he couldn't have stuck with Ron and he wondered what it must be like to have so much money as be able to forget that feeling. His parents had been good about teaching him that envy was something to be avoided and that one could find satisfaction everywhere, provided one looked for it. That was how he, of all people, was the best friend Harry Potter could possibly have made. It didn't take long for Ron to recognise that familiar feeling of longing in the other boy's eyes when it came to simple things that he himself had never even questioned, such as having a family and growing up in the wizarding world. That was how he could handle his new best friend being famous graciously and generously. It was only in the darkest moments of self-doubt that he recalled Lucius Malfoy's words, coming to realise, over time, how cruel they had been. But despite himself and despite a growing sense of contempt fuelled by his dealings with his son over the years, he couldn't help but stay fascinated by the man.

Have not, want not?

Ron sighed. He had left Harry and Hermione and the awful locket Horcrux behind days ago. His anger had gradually subsided and he was beginning to have second thoughts about having gone. After some time wondering the countryside, evading groups of Snatchers, he found himself on what seemed to be the grounds belonging to a manor. It was a dark, neo-classical building which he could see out in the distance. He sensed something was wrong the instant before he saw the dogs, vicious ghostly things, running straight at him.

" _Stupefy!_ " he heard, a split second before he could disapparate. He fell to the ground heavily.

Someone was slapping him in the face with a mole skin glove when he came to and the dogs were nowhere to be seen.

"Well well. I was hunting a fox, but it would seem my dogs found me a weasel instead." drawled Lucius Malfoy.

Ron stared up, too shocked to say anything. Frantically, he grasped at destinations in his mind so that he could escape when...

"Not so fast!" Lucius said, grabbing Ron's ankle with his re-gloved hand. Nevertheless, willing to take the risk of bringing Malfoy with him 'the bugger might even get splinched' Ron tried to disapparate away and found that he couldn't for sheer nerves.

"Did you honestly think that was going to work, Weasley?" came the condescending comment. "Now, you have a minute to convince me not to alert my ah, friends, at the manor. There might be a handsome reward in store for turning you in. Or we might put you to good use as entertainment, instead." he said very softly and menacingly, obviously enjoying the young man's bewilderment.

"I don't know where Harry is!" Ron spluttered, desperate to figure out what could make him not worth bothering with. Lucius Malfoy, who had clearly been expecting him to beg for mercy was slightly taken aback. Eyeing Ron he said:

"That was a strategic answer. Perhaps you aren't as stupid as Draco says." he said, still gripping Ron's ankle firmly. "But you are not smart enough to plead your case well." Ron gaped, amazed at not having been imperiused or crucioed yet. He tried to reach for his wand but Malfoy disarmed him in a flash. He looked at Ron carefully.

"No doubt if you knew Potter's whereabouts you wouldn't be wandering around on your own. And that filthy mudblood would have prevented you turning up on my doorstep. So to what, I wonder, do I owe the, ah, _privilege_ of finding only you here?" Lucius asked.

Ron noticed that though his voice sounded disdainful, there was a mischievous glint in his eye. He was instantly reminded of that first meeting long ago and how this man had, from the start, been so conflictingly fascinating to him. True, the man had aged and lost the sleek elegance he had once possessed, as well as the sense of power he had once exuded, but it didn't stop Ron's sudden remembrance from hitting him like a blow.

"I wanted what I couldn't have..." he said, more to himself than to Malfoy, not thinking for an instant that he wasn't the only one reminded of that particular memory.

Lucius Malfoy erupted into laughter. It was a disturbing, uncanny and positively undignified sound and it took Ron by surprise. Malfoy was doubled up, caught in a fit of roaring, rib-crunching laughter, letting go of Ron's ankle to clutch his sides. His heart pounding in his ears at this unexpected chance, Ron seized the drawn wand and directed it at Malfoy who was wiping tears from his eyes, seemingly not worried about the fact that his own wand was now being directed at him.

"Came to steal from me then, Weasley? Didn't you learn your lesson? And here I thought I had done you a favour by giving your blood-traitor father some advice. Clearly, the man was so incompetent he didn't even manage to teach you your place." He sighed and sized Ron up. "Or do you perhaps want to change sides? Is that why you're here? As a pureblood, after due penance, we could welcome you into the fold." he said, leering as if he had made the best of jokes.

Ron's adrenalin-fuelled mind was filled with clarity: He had known since childhood that this man was all about having, but he suddenly realised the flip-side of that was that he must also possess a tremendous amount of wanting. His advice to Ron's father had practically been an act of self-disclosure, Ron realised, though he doubted that Lucius Malfoy had ever realised it.

"Or you could join us." Ron said, almost breathlessly, an excited flush spreading over his face, still pointing Malfoy's wand at its owner and not quite daring to hope that he had found leverage. The leer died from Lucius' face and he looked, suddenly, as if he had been struck. Realising that his intuition had been right, Ron said:

"Think. You could run away from this. From..." Ron uttered a guess "... having to ask permission from your Death Eater pals to go out and kill some poor creature with a pack of long-dead pets to come to terms with the fact that you've lost your freedom."

The instant he finished saying the word _freedom_ , Ron knew he had struck a nerve, because Lucius Malfoy made to touch his finger to the Dark Mark. But Ron was ready and managed to cast a body-bind curse on him just in time.

"Mr. Malfoy, I want to set something straight... when I said I wanted what I couldn't have, I meant that I wanted to go back to my family, to how it all was before. The last thing I wanted was to... disturb you." Ron said, adopting a mocking version of Lucius Malfoy's drawl.

Being under the curse, the only reaction Lucius Malfoy could give was to glare at Ron, who scratched his head.

"Right, now I have to decide what I'm going to do with you, Mr. Malfoy." Ron said, picking up his wand from where it had rolled when he had been disarmed and pocketing Lucius Malfoy's. He then gripped Malfoy by the arm and disapparated. Instants later, they found themselves in a concrete WWII "pillbox" observation post on a beach. Ron was puzzled because he had never seen this place, let alone been there before.

"Was that you?" he asked, but Lucius Malfoy just stared back, still unable to talk.

By way of precaution, he magicked ropes around the man.

"Where are we?" Ron asked.

Lucius glowered, remaining silent.

"Suit yourself." Ron said. He set to warding the pillbox against apparition and disapparition and cast sound-proofing spells on it. When he had made sure that the pillbox would be safe from Muggles and undetectable by wizards, he double-checked Lucius Malfoy's bindings, lifted the curse, and ventured out to look around. Luckily it was winter and the only people out in the nasty sea-side drizzle were dog-walkers who were too used to seeing the pillboxes to be interested in who might be occupying them. He walked along the beach and came up to a row of rather luxurious Muggle hotels. A sign proclaimed the beach was kept rubbish-free by the authorities of the island of Jersey.

'Big surpise... he's brought us to his favourite holiday spot...or tax haven...' Ron thought to himself, remembering Bill rejecting a job-offer with a local Gringott's branch.

As the overcast sky dimmed to dusk-gray, Ron made his way back to the pillbox with a packet of toast and some cheese bought from an over-charging corner shop. He wasn't worried about Lucius Malfoy feeling cold as he had been dressed for hunting in a much colder part of Britain, but he didn't want to leave the man to his own devices long enough to risk him somehow getting away.

'Who would've thought that I would end up kidnapping Draco's dad.' Ron thought, with a glimmer of pride. A part of him secretly hoped that Lucius Malfoy himself might be a little impressed or at least have revised his judgement of him as a useless teenager. Stilling those thoughts he tried to think of how he would deal with this. He should turn Lucius Malfoy in. That was the logical action. But that meant making his whereabouts known and exposing himself and his family to retaliation from the Death Eaters. On the other hand he couldn't exactly keep Malfoy's father as a pet. He sniggered at the idea of transfigurating him into a ferret and putting a magical leash on him.

Ron entered the pillbox and was met by Lucius Malfoy's glare. Ron showed him the toast and cheese and Lucius Malfoy turned his head with a disgusted expression on his face.

"I wasn't about to hire a private chef, Mr. Malfoy. You should feel lucky that I'm decent enough to even offer..." Ron said, rather enjoying the idea of Lucius Malfoy having to beg him for some Muggle food if he wanted to eat. He made a show of conjuring a small fire and leaning a few slices of bread on a piece of driftwood at an angle so as to crisp them up.

"Still not hungry?" Ron asked, grinning as he tore bits of cheese into small chunks and wedged them between two slices of hot bread.

"Wipe that disgusting expression off your face!" Lucius Malfoy said, a glint of hunger-fuelled envy creeping into his eyes.

Ron waved the sandwich under Lucius Malfoy's nose.

"You have no idea what will happen to you once the Dark Lord takes over, so enjoy your fun while you can Weasley." Lucius Malfoy said. Ron was surprised that the tone, which he had expected to be superior and gloating bore no trace of... anything. It had been deadpan... dead serious.

"Or maybe I _should_ tell you." Lucius Malfoy went on. "They say fear is worse than pain. As far as I have seen, this holds true."

Ron swallowed hard. But feeling that reverse psychology had already served him well with Lucius Malfoy he said:

"Right Mr. Malfoy. I can see that _you_ clearly have nothing to fear from You-Know...your master." he broke off, afraid for a minute that even saying the not-name might somehow put him in danger.

"The Dark Lord rules by authority. Sometimes that authority comes at the price of violence." Lucius Malfoy said, almost sounding as if he was repeating something that had been drilled into him.

"And you're okay with that? What, Mr. Malfoy, do you, all of you death-eating prats, get from it I wonder? Seems to me that if you weren't under his authority you wouldn't have ended up kidnapped by your son's stupid blood-traitor schoolmate." Ron said, feeling himself grow an inch taller as he did.

The both of them were sitting at a ninety degree angle, so Ron could only see the man's face in profile. It had acquired a pinched quality since the beginning of the conversation. After a while he said:

"Weasley, we both know you don't have it in you to harm me. This is going nowhere. Eventually we'll be found and it's purely a question of chance which side will find us." Lucius Malfoy his features settling into a drawn frown.

"You'd better hope to Merlin that it's my side that finds you, Mr. Malfoy." Ron said.

"Why? So I can be sent to Azkaban? Oh no, that's right, _we_ control that." Lucius Malfoy sneered.

"At least _we_ don't torture people." Ron answered.

"And a lot of good that will do you all when faced with people who do."

"What exactly do you suggest, then? Should I just hand you back and leave you to explain your absence and why you haven't caught me?" Ron said.

Lucius Malfoy stayed quiet for a long time. Ron, stomach full of cheese sandwiches had nodded off in front of the fire, his knees drawn up and his arms and head resting on them.

"They have my wife and son." Lucius Malfoy said very quietly.

At that moment an overwhelming wave of guilt washed over him because he knew that if it weren't for his actions, Draco, who could no longer bring himself to meet his eye, would not be suffering the way he was. Lucius Malfoy upbraided himself, tried the over-worn mantra of 'my son has to prove himself and he's old enough to suffer the consequences of failure'. But it sounded hollow and he knew that it was also responsible for his wife's new contempt for him.

She was suffering even more than their son. She had to watch as their home was defiled by those of their comrades who, though purebloods, were scum. She had to tolerate abominations such as Greyback eating at their table and damaging their house-elves. And though she couldn't ever say it, she very much resented him for the Dark Lord's taking up residence at times there as well. He knew she didn't trust him any more. He had seen her grip Snape's arm and try to pull him into an embrace. But Snape always had known his place and coldly but respectfully had pushed her away. Since then she flinched when Lucius Malfoy caught her glimpsing at Sanpe during their assemblies. She knew that there was a trace of desperate longing on her face that only her husband would recognise as such and she was ashamed.

He suddenly felt very lonely and bitter.

Lucius Malfoy studied Ron. He was surprised at how little he reminded him of his father, other than the complexion and that absurd hair colour. Lucius remembered what the boy's mother had looked like at school. But the boy didn't remind him of that either. He was one of those strange children that managed to look like neither parent while still clearly sharing a resemblance with their siblings. Ron was taller than Draco, he noted, and his growth-stretched frame was developing a lanky, athletic grace. There was nothing refined about this boy, who, unlike Draco, did not know how to carry himself and had no poise. But despite the unpolishedness, the boy had a wholesomeness that Lucius Malfoy envied for himself and his son. He could tell that growing up in that disgustingly loving and ridiculous rabble of a family had given this young man a kind of resilience he could only dream of having. And suddenly, something broke in him, like his laughter before.

Though restrained by magical ropes, Lucius Malfoy threw himself bodily at Ron who woke with a start as he was bowled over. The man heaved himself over Ron's head and tried to force his weight down with the clear intention of smothering him. Ron flailed, but then years of being held down in play-fights by Fred and George kicked in and, having the advantage over his opponent of not being bound and gagged, he managed to throw him off with relative ease. He realised with a shock that he was physically stronger.

But Lucius Malfoy let out a gagged yell of rage and continued thrashing on the ground, though Ron was standing away from him. He rolled into the fire.

"You bloody idiot!" Ron shouted, to no effect. "Stop!" he cried again.

Undeterred, Lucius Malfoy continued his muffled fit of rage and Ron looked on in shock at the utterly undignified scene until he saw the magical flames starting to lick at the fine woollen cloak with more insistence. And suddenly Ron saw the ends of that foppishly long hair catch fire. Hurling himself at the mad-man he heaved him aside and clamped his hand over the burning hair, the disgusting smell of which already permeated the atmosphere of the pillbox.

"Mr. Malfoy, stop!" Ron said, a note of fear creeping into his voice. But the muffled howling went on and Ron, did the only thing he could think of. He threw himself on Lucius Malfoy who had been writhing furiously on the ground on his side. Ron's left knee in the small of his back forced him onto his stomach, his right hand gripping the man's neck tightly and holding his head still.

The man tried to buck a few times, but he was tiring and eventually he gave up. Their breathing was harsh and fearing that, his face pressed to the ground as it was, Lucius Malfoy might not be able to breathe, Ron one-handedly loosed the gag. He lowered himself onto the man, no longer pinning him down by force, but simply by weight, knowing that as long as he was on top of the man like this, there was nothing he could do to himself or to escape.

Bringing his left arm under and around the man's neck in a firm hold, he relinquished his grip on it with his right and brought his forehead to rest on the handful of hair trailing on the ground to the right of Lucius Malfoy's own head. He couldn't help but be immersed in the other man's smell. It was exactly as perfumed as one might expect, only now laced with wood-smoke and the nervous sweat which was dampening the man's neck. Ron inhaled deeply, willing the other man to do the same and gradually their breathing slowed down and synchronised. Though the whole thing had happened in only a matter of minutes, Ron knew that a lifetime's given had shifted: he had bested a Malfoy. The childhood illusion had shattered. Lucius Malfoy was only human too. And right now, all glamour gone, he was also the epitome of pathetic. And there was something so very uplifting about the feeling!

"Get off." Lucius Malfoy said, still a little breathless.

"I don't think so." Ron said, a quidditch-pitch-worthy note of triumph in his voice. He couldn't resist adding: "I'm actually rather enjoying this. Shame no one's here to see it, really. I doubt anyone'd believe me if I told them I'd wrestled Draco's dad."

He tightened his hold around Lucius Malfoy's neck and lifted his own forehead off the ground. A few blond hairs that were stuck to it followed. He swiped them away with his free hand and Malfoy twitched, the tug of those hairs itching his scalp, forcing himself to ignore the sensation.

Ron noted that Lucius Malfoy's breathing had become faster again. Fearing another outburst of anger he said:

"All right, all right Mr. Malfoy. As soon as I've figured out what to do I'll get off." he said.

Ron was expecting an answer, but when none came he loosened his hold a little, allowing the man to shift and roll his head sideways. His eyes were closed and there was sand stuck to his forehead, which was lined in anger. He was breathing heavily through slightly flared nostrils and Ron saw an ugly flush creeping over the black velvet-collared neck into the man's face.

"Mr. Malfoy?" Ron asked.

"Hurry up." Lucius Malfoy said.

"You're not exactly helping." Ron answered. "All right. I'm going to keep a hold on your neck. If you try anything, you're going back on the floor. As soon as I can get my wand I'll let go of you." Ron said. Malfoy nodded.

Hoisting himself off gingerly, Ron made sure that Lucius Malfoy's neck was still tightly in a choke-hold. He waited for the man to clumsily get to his knees, a task made harder by his hands and ankles being bound. Ron noticed that the man's posture was strangely hunched and he hoped he hadn't actually injured him. Ron was about to ask whether he was hurt when he caught a glimpse of something that had the effect of a bucket of cold horror being thrown over him. It was there, discretely but unmistakeably, tenting the man's dark woollen breeches.

The shock almost made him let go his grip on Lucius Malfoy's neck. He looked at the man, whose eyes were still pinched shut, his face burning with shame. 'Bloody hell!?' Ron thought. At once he wanted the whole thing to be over with. He had had his fun, lording it over a man who had spent decades mocking his father and whose son had never missed a chance to try to bully him at school. An echo, perhaps, of the admiration and the craving for recognition of his worth by the man, which had been there for most of his childhood, flared up in his mind and was satisfied, almost glad at the thought that this man wanted him physically. But it quickly died down, replaced by a strong impulse of rejection. This was something he wanted no part of.

Having grabbed his wand, he cast a body-bind curse on the man, who became rigid, his dead weight almost pulling Ron off balance. He gently lowered him to the ground, making a point of not looking at the man's midsection, not that it would have been noticed by Malfoy, whose eyes were still shut.

"Right, I'm going to lift the wards, Mr. Malfoy. Then I'll press your mark and leave you to be picked up by your..." he didn't finish, unable to find a word suiting the relationship that Lucius Malfoy must have with the other Death Eaters.

Having lifted the spells, he went back to the silent and paralysed figure on the ground. Things were clear to him now. Ron knew that the world he had missed and already half-mourned was gone. The balance way clearly so off that a situation like this had become possible... The only way to make things right again was to help Harry. He would go back to where they had been camped when he left and try to pick up their trail from there, though it might still take a long time for him to find them.

Squeamishly, he unbuttoned and yanked Lucius Malfoy's right sleeve up to the man's elbow and pressed the smallest tip of his index to the revolting magical tattooo, disapparating with a pop to a remote forest as soon as the touch was broken.

Almost immediately, there was a single pop and Snape was in the pillbox. He immediately lifted the curse on Lucius Malfoy, magicked away his bindings and cocked an eyebrow as he looked over him, meeting Lucius Malfoy's eye with an enquiring stare.

"Abducted by a fox, were you?" He asked, his tone amused. "It really is unkind of you to let Narcissa worry so much about you going hunting alone. Though I suppose it isn't necessary that I inform her that your apparently... stimulating... encounter wasn't as dangerous as she thinks. I'm sure you'll come up with a convincing explanation for her." Snape's mouth twisted into a smirk.

'Prat.' thought Lucius Malfoy.

"What did you do? Ask her for proof of her blood-status? I would be rather surprised if there were many, if any, pureblood... ladies... available for casual encounters." Snape went on.

"That's enough Severus." Lucius Malfoy said menacingly, recovering his composure as he smoothed down the gradually flattening fabric at his loins before rubbing feeling back into his wrists as he stood. And with two pops, they were gone.

Epilogue

Lucius had got off with a slap on the wrist from the Death Eaters, who had seen fit to only send one person to rescue him. Narcissa was already not talking to him much and Draco was avoiding him. He could only be grateful that his son hadn't come to help Snape, though it disappointed him. As far as he could tell, Snape hadn't said anything to arouse anyone's suspicion at him having returned from a short hunting excursion hours late, in the middle of the night, without a carcass, but with sand on his garments and freshly trimmed hair, thanks to Snape, who had had the decency to remind him that the singed ends would arouse suspicion.

It galled Lucius that despite being so subservient, Snape managed to keep a certain unreadable dignity that he himself had long lost. He knew that that was what his wife longed for. He also knew that she suspected what Snape had said: that he was being unfaithful. In fact no one seemed to care that he might be and he was angry that everyone apparently expected that he was. He had never indulged in another woman's company since his wedding night and hardly at all in his wife's since they had decided not to give Draco any siblings. In compensation he had turned to drink.

As Lucius lay in his bedroom that night, having long moved out of his marriage bed, his mind replayed the events of the past hours endlessly, though he would have given anything to forget. Alone, in the quiet darkness of his house, when the shame was bearable, he revisited the memory of that feeling. Being contained by a strong, warm body. Held by someone for his own safety.

Desire had washed upon him with full force as unexpectedly as it was unacceptable. He could still feel the boy's breath catching the sweat on the back of his neck, as it had once he hand removed his hand. He could hear the words, that had triggered it all 'I'm actually rather enjoying this'. His blood had reacted as if to say 'me too' in response and he had known there was no chance that it could be for the same reason. He was glad that he had kept his eyes shut as soon as he knew the boy could see his traitor of a body give away what he felt. He thought he would have died of shame if he had seen the look this boy, this utterly disgusting idiot, must have had on his face, going by the mortified intake of breath he had heard and the way he had left as soon as he could.

Instead, he tried to picture him as a child, the way he had stared up in awe that time years ago. Though he had been concentrating on vexing the boy's father, he couldn't help but catch and approve of the child's visible admiration for himself as he said those cruel words. Knowing himself to be no example of it, he had nevertheless mused that one doesn't always follow in one's family's footsteps. 'Maybe this ginger runt could grow up to have the right idea about things.' he had thought. He had been wrong, of course. And he couldn't bear the thought that a person could grow up with such a dreadfully muggle-loving background and become anything other than a weakling and a degenerate.

'He's not the one who's a degenerate.' Lucius thought to himself as he fought to ignore his persistent arousal, trying very hard to find comfort in the fact that he had never desired anyone his son's age until now.

Suddenly, he heard a knock on Narcissa's door down the corridor. It was very soft and he wouldn't have heard it if he hadn't been wide awake. He leapt up, soft-footed like a cat and cracked the door open, only catch a glimpse of a familiar black-haired figure being admitted to his wife's bedroom.

The end


End file.
